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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414789">Practice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD'>ArgylePirateWD</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Tea, Trauma, Tumblr Ask Box Fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:22:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>In an ideal world, he wouldn't be able to recognize the type of nightmare John suffered without an explanation. He wouldn't have something akin to a ritual for handling each kind, wouldn't need one</em>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harold Finch/John Reese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Practice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nourann/gifts">nourann</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for another <a href="https://argylepiratewd.tumblr.com/post/624198541888389120/whumpbox-gentle-things-send-a-number-get-a">Tumblr ask meme.</a></p><p>nourann asked for 4, <em>post-nightmare comfort</em></p><p>Could probably be read as a companion to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906634">rest for the wicked</a>, though it's not intentionally connected. John Reese and nightmares are just a natural fit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's gotten too good at handling the torture John's sleeping mind conjures. In an ideal world, he wouldn't be able to recognize the type of nightmare John suffered without an explanation. He wouldn't have something akin to a ritual for handling each kind, wouldn't need one.</p><p>But they're not living in an ideal world, are they?</p><p>Harold climbs out of bed, ignoring the complaints of his bones and the near-overwhelming urge to reach out and <em>touch</em>—what a grave error that might be. His joints creak, and John turns his head so fast Harold's neck aches in sympathy. John's eyes are wide, wild, boring into Harold like he cannot believe what he's seeing, who he's seeing, or maybe cannot comprehend the reality traveling from his eyes to his brain. Until his senses and defenses are rebuilt, Harold cannot risk getting too close—for John's sake more than his own.</p><p>"I'm going to make a cup of tea, my darling," he says, softly, his fingers itching to wipe away the sweat shimmering on John's brow, to comb through damp black and silver hair in soothing strokes, to splay upon John's bare chest, over his cracked and pounding heart. He buries the impulse in straightening his sleep shirt, in smoothing down the rumpled silk as he asks, "Would you care to join me?"</p><p>John nods once, and gets to his feet without saying a word, moving like a deadly, silent creature waiting for the need to strike. Harold gives him a kind smile, then turns his back on him, the gesture of trust instantly recognized, judging by John's sharp inhale.</p><p>As they head for the kitchen, John is perfectly quiet, not even his footfalls making a sound on the carpet, muffled by practice and the sound of Harold's limp. Harold turns to him occasionally along the way, finding the same grim, closed-off shell trailing close behind him. Each time, his heart breaks further, and the need to take John into his arms and hold him forever grows stronger. But he <em>can't</em>, not yet, not when every inch of John's body is screaming for him not to touch, and, oh, if Mark Snow and Kara Stanton weren't already dead...</p><p>John stops abruptly, and Harold realizes some of his anger must be showing on his face. He forces himself to smile, and to feign cheer instead of anger and heartache as he says, "I've been told tea cures most ills. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I've found that it generally doesn't hurt."</p><p>After several breathless moments of still, oppressive silence, John finally speaks. "Long as you don't spill it on you," he says, with the tiniest hint of a burgeoning smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "That hurts."</p><p>Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, Harold says, "Indeed," and chances laying a hand on John's arm. Some of the tension in John's shoulders melts away, and Harold can't hold back anymore. He gathers John into his arms, pulling him close, murmuring, "Come here, my dearest," and John exhales loudly and wraps himself around Harold, gentle yet tight. "Oh, there we go." He kisses John's cheek and rubs John's back, hand moving over badly-scarred and clammy skin. So many scars, so many hurts that still linger, lashings and stabbings and bullet wounds and all manner of non-physical trauma. It's a wonder John's not in worse shape than he is.</p><p>It's a wonder Harold gets the privilege of being with someone who possesses so much strength.</p><p>His own body doesn't like him standing in one place for so long, especially when he is fresh out of bed. Reluctantly, Harold steps back, taking hold of John's hands along the way. "Now, let's go get that tea," he says, entwining their fingers together. "Preferably <em>without</em> spilling it on either of us."</p>
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